


On Top

by FabulaRasa



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:23:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/pseuds/FabulaRasa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this text post on tumblr:</p><p>  <b>which person of ur otp furiously does push-ups while the other sits on their back and reads a magazine</b></p><p>Because if that's not the most BatLanterny thing ever, I don't know what is.</p><p><b>ETA:</b> Now with some adorable and luscious <a href="http://fabula-unica.tumblr.com/post/100251162180/winnietheripper-bruce-wayne-doing-an-epic">art</a> by <a href="http://winnietheripper.tumblr.com/">winnietheripper</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Top

" _Off!_ "

"Oh come on, I'm helping. You can do it. I believe in you."

Bruce narrowed his eyes and strained through another set of five push-ups, his jaw tightening with every quiver of his biceps. He collapsed after the fifth, breathing hard. Hal, on top of him, frowned over his magazine. 

"Little gentler on the landing next time," he said. He took another bite of his cinnamon roll. "'Kay, let's go, one more set," he called cheerfully.

"Hal. You weigh two hundred pounds."

"Is this about the cinnamon roll? Because body-shaming is not cool. It says right here in this article that a partner who body-shames is a partner in need of an attitude adjustment. Actually. . . whoa, harsh. It recommends right here that I dump you. See? It's got a little check mark in the 'Lose That Loser' column."

Brue aimed a glare over his shoulder. "I haven't noticed that any of the trash you consume on a regular basis has the slightest effect on your body." _Much to my irritation_ , he might have added, but didn't. Hal was six lean feet of solidly toned muscle, and the whole thing appeared to run on cronuts and Dr Pepper. Bruce grimaced. "Get off me, you idiot."

Hal sighed and tossed his magazine overboard, cramming the last bit of roll into his mouth. Instead of dismounting, however, he stretched full length on Bruce's back, luxuriating. He ran his hands down Bruce's sweat-sheened arms, and nuzzled at Bruce's neck, inhaling deeply. 

"What do you think you are doing."

"Getting off," he said with a grin, and Bruce could feel the slight undulation of those hips as he rubbed just the smallest bit against his ass crack. Bruce sighed.

"You are an idiot child with an erectile disorder."

"A, I clock in at genius, which you happen to know. B, I am an officer of record with not just one but two military organizations, and C— are you even kidding me, _I'm_ the one with the disorder? My ass is still sore from last night, Jesus Christ."

Bruce tried to hide his smile. He rolled and pitched Hal onto the floor, and then stretched himself over top of his lover, pinning him. There was a small smear of icing from the cinnamon roll near the corner of Hal's mouth. "I didn't hear any complaints," he said, letting his voice go low and husky the way Hal liked.

"Give me a break, I could have been reciting War and Peace into that pillow and you wouldn't have heard." But there was a smirk lurking somewhere near the icing, and Bruce knew he wasn't displeased. Hadn't been displeased last night, either, because he had in fact heard plenty, and Hal's moans didn't lie. Hal would never know, would never have any idea, just how far he would go for Hal's pleasure, and how deeply he craved it. The moment when Hal's mouth parted slightly, when his eyes went just a little bit unfocused—more, when he made that small noise in the base of his throat: those were the moments Bruce lived for. And to see Hal stretched out on his bed, groaning deep and long, hips pushing into the mattress, cock straining—well, that was his favorite jack-off fantasy.

The most turned-on he had ever been was the first time he had rimmed Hal. Which had also been Hal's first rimming, he knew. 

_I don't—I'm not sure I—_

_Shhh. It's just pleasure. Let me._

Hal had gasped aloud at the first broad warm stroke of Bruce's tongue. He hadn't done anything other than just bathe him in warmth, and he had watched for the shift and squirm of Hal's hips that had told him Hal was getting hard under there. Gently he had pulled Hal's cock out from underneath him, and as he licked, he had run an occasional light finger up his length. 

_Oh Jesus Christ, Jesus God—oh fuck fuck fuuuuck—_

And then, on a quiet gasp, Hal had shivered and his cock had shot come, with Bruce's tongue deep in him and nothing more than a gentle slow thumb on his cock. Hal's legs had been shaking. Bruce had kept going until he was certain Hal was drained, and then, unable to stop himself, he had climbed on top of Hal and rubbed his own achingly stiff cock on that warm saliva-wet hole, hard, until he had come so massively his eyes had stung. Just the thought of his cum dripping down Hal's crack, soaking his balls and cock beneath, was enough to get him hard all these months later. 

"What are you thinking about?" Those brown eyes were watching him. Hal's hand was stroking up his arm. 

"You," he said, and watched the eyes soften. He wished he could say the things Hal deserved to hear. But Hal knew them anyway; knew every part of him. 

"So. What's next in the work-out routine? Because you feel pretty firmed-up to me. Firmer by the minute, I'd say."

"It's important to take a break, in between sets. I suggest we adjourn to a more suitable resting area."

"Mm," Hal said thoughtfully. He stretched out his arm and tugged the abandoned magazine closer. "'Proposes sex to you in middle of day, even after six months together,'" he read aloud. "Awesome, looks like that's a ticky box in the 'He's A Keeper' column for you."

"Do I want to ask where you got this magazine?"

"Picked it up at the grocery store because the cover said something about sexual positions. I'm going to be honest and say that most of these are of limited applicability, in a same-sex situation, so I'm a little disappointed there. I still think we can have a lot of fun if we try to find our G-spots, though. Wanna try?"

Bruce plucked the magazine from Hal's hands and tossed it aside. He bent his mouth to Hal's ear. "There isn't a single spot on my body," he whispered, "that you couldn't use to make me come." He had the pleasure of watching the warm pool of black in Hal's eyes widen and darken, and Hal's hands roamed south, dug into his ass. 

"Is that so," he said, his voice gone as quiet as Bruce's. 

"That's so. Now get that gorgeous ass upstairs and in my bed. I have some thoughts about position number seven."

"You—wait a minute." Hal narrowed his eyes. "How did you—"

Bruce cut him off by taking care of that stray bit of icing near Hal's mouth, which was the only reliable way he had ever found to make Hal Jordan shut up.


End file.
